Ullirsborg
by Benestro
Summary: Sigyn of Asgard adventures during the Hyborian age.
1. Chapter 1

**Ullirsborg**

 **I.**

Dawn broke over the high, frozen lands of Asgard. Winter was loosening its death grip on the country, but it would still be many weeks before what passed for spring would arrive. A grey miasma churned overhead, rarely allowing a hint of the sunrise to slip by to kiss the jagged crags and milk white glaciers. It was upon one such glacier that a boy and his dog fled for their very lives.

Not for the fist time, the boy sprawled face first into the snow. Again he struggled to his feet, wiping his eyes and shaking his tawny mane, the smallish hound that accompanied him whining and encouraging him to follow. He struggled to catch his breath, clutching his side where blood oozed through his tunic. Across the Devil's Glacier they ran, striving for the rocks on the other side. If he could reach them, there would be a chance to hide, to lose his pursuers. He resumed his flight, following behind the brindle hound that had been his comrade since he'd convinced his grandfather to allow him to raise it rather than drown the the undersized pup. Now the dog had stopped, whimpering and leaping on the boy, arresting his flight. The lad saw why; between them and the rocks they sought now opened a crevasse, too wide for a lad of ten winters to jump. With a whimper he turned and ran along the edge, hoping the gulf would narrow and he could cross before the red-handed slayers that pursued him could catch up. On and on he struggled, his breath coming in ragged gasps and his numbing limbs inexorably growing stiffer and slower, until once more he stumbled, falling headlong onto the frigid surface of the glacier, this time lying still. The dog ran back to him, licking at his face and tugging at the bearskin cloak the boy's mother had hastily thrown about him ere she lowered him over the keep's wall, exhorting him to flee west as fast as his feet would carry him.

For a time he lay insensate, but when the dog's whining turned to a low growl it slowly brought him back to awareness, he raised his head,, struggled to clear the snow and tears from his eyes and became aware of a figure looming before him. It was a woman leading a laden draft horse by the reigns. She was tall even among the statuesque Aesir, and her carriage bespoke of great strength. She was clad strangely for Nordhiem, sporting a silken purple cloak lined with tiger fur over a long coat of silvered scale mail. An outlandish, horsehair crested helm rested on her head. She gripped a spear in her right hand, using it like a staff to steady herself while walking across the glacier, and with her left arm she carried a round shield, painted with the image of a bizarre horned creature with tails in both front and back. Green eyes peered out from the helm and regarded the bow with no small amount of surprise. At the sight of this bizarre figure, the lad collapsed back to his knees. Tears streamed down his face and he wailed at the woman with clenched, upraised fists "No! I will not go! You will not deliver me unto Ymir! I will not go!" The woman doffed her helm, releasing a long braid of tawny hair, and kneeled down to address the boy, "You seem to have me confused with someone else," she said, "I've no desire to carry little boys off to Ymir. I am called Sigyn. Who are you? "I am Snorri, son of Hielyr," Sigyn stiffened, and kneeling, seized the boy by the shoulders "Hielyr? Is your mother Skaddi Ullirsdottir?" "Aye" gasped the lad. "It was she that bade me flee from the Hall of Ullir. Enemies breached our walls and began slaying all within. I ran! Those men pursued me. They nearly caught me once, but I stabbed one with my dagger and Sterne here, bit one, we got past them. They follow me now! Oh Ymir! They will be upon us soon!" " Loins of Ishtar!" Sigyn cursed, invoking foreign deities. She peered across they glacier in the direction Snorri had indicated, already she saw the shadowy forms of his pursuers. Sigyn rose, and collected a cloth wrapped bundle from a pack on her horse, "There's food in it, "she said, tossing the bundle to the boy, "Eat it and use the cloth to staunch that wound. Spare none to the dog, he looks healthy enough." She donned her helmet once more, and strode purposefully in the direction of Snorri's pursuers. "Stay here and mind my horse, I'll have a word with these warriors who follow you." "You cannot!" cried Snorri, "what can one wench do against three warriors? You go to your doom!" Sigyn turned on him with a raised eyebrow. "Wench? First I'm a shield maiden to Ymir, now I'm reduced to being a mere wench? Gods! How fickle are the fates of poor wanderers." with a chuckle she set out to intercept the lad's tormentors.

 **II.  
** Three stout warriors trudged along the edge of the crevasse, following the prints left by Snorri and his dog. Two were red-bearded Vanir, one a seasoned veteran of countless raids, the other a wild-eyed youth, now near trembling with the killing-lust. The third man differed greatly from his companions. He was an older man, gaunt and sinewy as an old wolf, his countenance grim and dark, scarred by a lifetime of violent action. His straight hair and drooping mustachios were once black as coal, but now were shot with grey. The youngest lurched ahead of his companions gripping a great war-axe. "The brat can't have gotten much farther, Braggi' he exclaimed, "He's been running since midnight!" "Calm yourself, Hoor." said the elder Vanir, "we will catch up with him directly, and do Harrald's will!" The gray haired man raised his hand to call for silence and hissed: "Quiet dogs. Someone approaches." Hoor squinted and peered ahead "That's not the boy, by Ymir!" Braggi held back, and addressed his weathered companion. "Who can this be, Donal? Could the boy have met allies out here? Perhaps some of Ullir's men were away from the keep! Or if they were able to raise the militia?" Donal waved a hand dismissively, "We shall see shortly, Braggi, he is nearly…..Crom's teeth, that's a wench or I'm a kushite." Braggi looked again at the approaching figure, "A wench? That worthy is as tall as Hoor, and nearly as broad. 'twould be a giantess!" "Mayhaps." replied Donal. "You Northlanders grow them big up here though, Braggi. We shall see, we shall see."

Sigyn walked gingerly along the glacier, carefully checking the path ahead with the butt of her spear. She hailed the three pleasantly. "Mind your footing. Especially so near the crevasse. You should probe ahead of you with a spear or something, the ice can be treacherous." Hoor fairly drooled with venomous anger, "Who are you to tell a Vanir how to tread the ice, bitch!" "Please yourself then, boy. " Sigyn smiled and continued in polite tones, "But, when you dash your brains out on the bottom of that crevasse, speak with a more civil tongue to Derketo when you try to trade her long-haired goats to let you into hell." Hoor fumed. "To hell with you and your outlandish gods, slut! I'll…" "Silence Hoor." Donal hissed to the enraged young Vanir, and then spoke to Sigyn. "Ignore the lad; these youngsters learn no manners these days." Sigyn nodded. "Aye, it's a sad state of affairs, I fear for the future of the northlands. You speak the tongue of Asgard well, what is that accent? Cimmerian?" "It is." replied Donal, You've a good ear." "I've traveled to Cimmeria, and beyond. I've heard many strange tongues and accents. I've learned a few myself, even." she shrugged, and gestured vaguely to the north "I try to return to my old village, Mosfell, every so often, but each time I do, it gets more and more depressing. All my childhood playmates are becoming old coots, toothless crones, or corpses" Donal nodded sympathetically, "'Aye, it is the way of all things. Do you go to your village now?" "Nay, I left there six days ago, I'm for Brythunia! My years of living on the southern lands have made this frigid climate near intolerable, and I want to be close by when the passes thaw. Besides, I fear my popularity in Mosfell has waned over the years, my father's tenure as chieftain , well…" Sigyn paused, shivering in an exaggerated fashion. "BRR! Anyway, before leaving Asgard, I had thought to visit Ullirsborg! I did some work for Ullir some ten winters agone, and he bid me visit should I pass this way again." Donal glanced back the way they'd came and tugged at his moustache. Presently he spit toward the crevasse, and said in reply, "Did he now? Well. About that, I fear Ullir is not disposed to receive guests at the moment…."  
It was then that Hoor lost what little patience he had. "Enough of this foolishness!' he blurted, "The boy! Where is the boy, slut! Tell us or we'll gut you!" Sigyn showed no reaction to the threat, nor the insult: "I did come across a boy, now that you mention it; I left him back there watching my horse." "Then stand aside!" Hoor exclaimed, "I will finish this business." Hoor lurched forward awkwardly the icy surface making his footing precarious. "It sounds to me, Hoor; you intend to do that lad harm." Sigyn stated, not moving from the position she'd taken up in the path of the three fighting men. "Harm?" said Hoor. "Nay, I intend to split the brat in twain, and end Ullir's bloodline forever!" Sigyn nodded. "I see… Know this! The lad shall come to no harm. I will take him away, and he'll trouble you no further, and we part ways in peace. But take another step past where I stand now, and I'll kill you." Hoor glared a moment, and shifted his grip on his axe. Then sneered "Indeed? Wretched harridan! Kill me then." he lurched forward once more, spittle flecking his lips and his steaming breath coming faster. Donal's eyes narrowed, noticing something about Sigyn's stance that had not registered with him before, that and the glint of steel about her boots, "A moment, Hoor….." But it was too late.

Sigyn shifted her stance quickly, the ice cleats strapped to her boots giving her more solid footing than that of young, careening Hoor. Her spear leapt out like a striking viper, taking Hoor under the right side of the jaw, the point knocking his horned helmet off as it burst through the top left side of his skull. Braggi roared incoherently, dragging a great broadsword from its scabbard. Donal produced a spiked mace from his belt and sought to caution his companion. "Nay Braggi! We will take her together! She's …" But Braggi would have none of it. He charged Sigyn, his sword poised on high to bring down a skull splitting blow. Sigyn had released the spear and let it fall to the ground with Hoor. She raised her shield, drawing a short, broad, stabbing sword from her belt. She took Braggi's sword on the shield, nearly crying out at the jarring force of the blow, and then thrust her own sword with all her might. The blow drove the blade through Braggi's mail shirt, under his ribs, and into his heart. He was dead when he struck the ice. A steaming, crimson pool formed under the corpse.  
Donal gripped his mace, and moved a buckler to his left arm from his back. "That stance." he said. "That short sword, and your armor. Kothian. You've been armed and trained by Kothic mercenaries." "Among others." replied Sigyn, smiling and eyeing the Cimmerian over the rim of her shield, her sword poised to deliver another lethal thrust. "A lass must be able to protect her virtue when she travels alone as I do. Now listen! I'm sure you dogs have killed Ullir and his whole house, and for that you should all die. But my offer stands, go back and tell whoever ordered the boy's death whatever lies you wish. I'll take the lad south with me. You'll not see him again." Donal shook his head. "Nay lass, I could not suffer to have been bested by woman, even a war-goddess such as yourself, and I'm sure those Kothians that taught you man-slaying also taught you that when you accept a man's coin for use your sword arm, you do as you are bid, and question not his will. The boy dies." Sigyn sneered "I was taught something else here, in Asgard, long before I set foot in Koth. "She replied. "There are deeds that stain a man's heart and blacken his soul; no amount of gold can make him clean again. What you would do is such a deed." "Far too late for such thoughts." said Donal. "I have done many such deeds already, this pales in comparison to some. Now, let's have done with this!" Donal began moving toward Sigyn, and to her right, seeking to press her closer to the yawning crevasse to her left. She knew he would be more formidable than the bumbling Vanir, he was older, and perhaps age had weakened his arm or slowed his legs, but she could not count on that, he was clearly seasoned in the art of combat, and a Cimmerian would need no cleats to keep his footing on the ice. She could not let him crowd her into the crevasse. There was nothing else for it.  
Sigyn lept at him, feinting with her sword while swinging the edge of her her shield at his face. Donal saw through the trick at the last instant and suffered a glancing blow that lacerated his cheek but did not stun him as Sigyn intended. He swung his mace and smote her full on the side of her helm, knocking it off her head and sending her sprawling toward the crevasse. Half senseless, stars dancing before her eyes, she struggled to her feet, raising her sword just quickly enough to block Donal's next blow. He was already upon her! His grey eyes coldly regarding her stoically and his drooping moustache obscuring whatever grin or grimace his mouth may have held. He rained another blow down upon her blade, this time striking so hard he nearly drove the edge of her sword into her own face. Sigyn knew death would claim her on the next blow, or the one after; the blow to her head had weakened her too much. One last mad plan came to her addled brain. As Donal raised his mace to deliver another savage blow, Sigyn dropped her sword, and snatched his belt with both hands, dragging him down and toward her. "Crom!" he cursed as, unprepared for the tactic, he was pulled off balance. As he fell, Sigyn thrust her cleated boot into his chest, pushing him up and over. He fell in heap behind her, and sliding on the ice, slipped over the edge of the crevasse. He held on for a moment, struggling to gain a foothold or handhold, finding no purchase on the ice which either crumpled under him or slipped away from his grip.

Sigyn struggled to her knees and faced him as he paused, as though finally gaining a secure hold. His face framed by the gray hair sticking to the steaming sweat coating his face, he looked Sigyn dead in the eye and grinned.

"Well, I'm a Kushite." he whispered, then disappeared from view, falling into the black depths of the crevasse.

 **III.**

Sigyn crawled to the edge of the crevasse and peered into it, striving to see if Donal lay dead at the bottom or if he had somehow managed to arrest his fall. Mist obscured the interior a few feet down; there was no way for her to be sure of the grizzled Cimmerian's fate. She pushed herself away from the edge tried to stand. The world spun wildly about her eyes as she propped herself on all fours and retched. "Ymir!' she croaked. Rising back on her knees, she concentrated on a distant peak and waited for her addled senses to clear, and her churning stomach to settle. Suddenly, she found herself assailed by Snorri's dog Sterne, who enthusiastically licked her face. "Get off me you cur!" Sigyn pushed the hound away, but that only seemed to increase his desire to lick her face and press his cold wet nose upon her. Snorri approached, leading Sigyn's horse. "Sigyn!" he cried. "Are you hurt? I saw your fight with the Cimmerian! By Ymir! You are a mighty warrior! " "I feel decidedly less than mighty." she groaned "The Cimmerian dealt me a shrewd blow with that mace, but I'll live. Call off your hound." Snorri seized the dog by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from Sigyn, who finally regained her feet. "Fetch my sword and helm, boy" she instructed, and then slowly made her way to the corpse of Hoor. She seized the haft of her spear and placed a foot on Hoor's neck. With a grunt she wrenched the weapon out of the Vanir's skull, dribbling blood and brains out upon the ice and snow. She hobbled to her horse grasping her hip. "Derketo's tits!" she cursed, "I felt something go in my hip when I threw that bastard over." Snore approached her, carrying her sword. " I cannot find your helm; I think it fell into the crevasse." "It's a small matter, this dog won't be needing his helm" said Sigyn, jerking a thumb at Hoor's rapidly freezing carcass. "Fetch it for me, whilst I try to walk this pain out of my hip." Snorri did as he bid while Sigyn walked about in small circles. "Here you are!" he said, handing her the horned helm. "My thanks." Sigyn replied and started to place the helm on her head, but something caught her eye. "Ghah! This thing is crawling with lice! No wonder he was in such ill humor." Sigyn hurled the helm toward the crevasse. "I will make do without a helm I suppose. Come lad, we go to Ullirsborg. Along the way you can tell me exactly what happened when the raiders attacked." "You want to go back to the keep?" Snorri exclaimed incredulously, "The Vanirmen hold it now! The slew all grandfather's men! They slew…" The boys voice trailed, off and he began sobbing. Sigyn knelt, and threw her arm about Snorri's shoulders. "Know this Snorri. I count your mother and grandfather among my friends, and I would aid them, or see them avenged, and I would see you inherit Ullirsborg as is your right. I ask that you aid me in this. Can you aid me Snorri, son of Hielyr?" "But how?" he sniffled. "You fight well. But you are but one woman; they are many stout fighting men." "Well, they are three less now, by Ymir!" She replied with a sly smile," And I have you and Sterne at my side! What could go ill?"

The smith had been working his forge since dawn, crafting the horseshoes, plowshares and other implements the local farmers would clamor for once the spring thaw came. His great, mighty arms working the great bellows that heated his fires to the yellow hue desirous for forging. The flames glow glinting off his curling blue black beard and hair that was so remarkable for the region. (It was said his mother was a dusky, raven haired, Set worshiping girl from the south his father had seized in a raid, but the simple country folk that settled near Ullirsborg were ever repeating outlandish rumors.) He worked alone, and lived a solitary life in a long low house attached to his forge. There had been a wife and child once, but the wife died of consumption and the boy was killed by a saber toothed cat while hunting. The smith had grown grim and taciturn since then, and the locals tended to avoid his house, thinking it touched by some curse that claimed his family. This suited him; he had little desire for the company of his fellow man. Still, he grudgingly enjoyed the periodic visits of Ullir, lord of the region, who had a keen eye for fine craftsmanship and commissioned many swords, axes, spears and the like. Ullir had bade the smith come live in his great hall , Ullirsborg, and work his trade there, but the smith refused, not willing to leave his isolated home, separated by a row of hills from the hall and the various farms and ranches that composed Ullir' domain. No. he preferred to keep to himself and the local population let him. Thus he was surprised when a remarkably tall and menacing armored woman, accompanied by a laden draft horse, a small hound and, by Ymir! The grandson of Ullir turned up at his front gate.

"Hail to thee, smith!" Said the woman, cheerfully smiling and waving as she approached the oaken gate of his homestead, The smith found her face not uneasy on his eyes, but all else was sheathed in scale mail, silks and furs. The ease with which she moved in such armour gave him feelings of both admiration and unease. "Hail yourself." he replied. "Who are you? And why have you come to my gate so armed and bearing with you the grandson of lord Ullir?" "Ah! You recognize the lad! Good! "She made a slight, playful bow, "Sigyn of Mossfell, at your service!" "Really" he snorted, "At my service indeed? I am called Biggu." Sigyn straighten and regarded him, arching an eyebrow. "Biggu? That's and odd name, is it a nickname?" "No." Biggu bristled, "I am named for the god of beekeeping and mead brewing, Biggu." Sigyn scratched her head, (not in thought, her skin had been crawling since seeing the lice infesting Hoor's helm) " I'm not the most pious girl to come out of Asgard, " she finally replied, "but I can't say I've heard of Biggu, isn't beekeeping the domain of..Aggir?" " No matter!" Biggu interrupted. He was quick to weary of this sort of theological discussion. "Why are you here? What do you want? You boy! Speak! Why are you with this wench and not thy mother or grandsire?" Sigyn would have none of this. "Hold, Biggu! Hear the lad's tale inside." she indicated the low, long house. "Or at least hear it by your forge, rather than out here in this cold." "Very well," replied Biggu warily, "by the forge then." he led them from the gate toward his forge, careful not to turn his back to them completely. "From where do you hail, Biggu?" asked Sigyn, drawing up beside him. Biggu noticed with some discomfiture that Sigyn stood at eye level with him, and he was reckoned a tall man. "I was born here in this very house, "he told her. "My father built this house and forge, and taught me to tend it as soon as I could grip a hammer." "Really?" She seemed surprised. "You have the stature of an Aesir to be sure, but that black, curly beard and hair looks more Shemitish or Argosean. Damn! I bet it's balmy in Argos now. Ever been to Argos, Biggu?" "No." Biggu stated flatly. He ushered them into his workshop. Sigyn moved quickly to the forge, took off her gloves and thrust her hands as close to the blazing coals as she could bear. "Careful, lass, do not set thyself alight." Biggu cautioned. She shrugged. "I will be fine, as soon as I thaw everything, Snorri, tell Biggu what happened at Ullirsborg, just as you told it to me." Snorri moved closer to the blazing forge and gazing into the embers, began his tale.

"I was throwing sticks to Stearne behind the kitchen. Then there was a noise like thunder, but louder than the loudest thunder. Then I heard noises and yelling from the courtyard. I ran to see what happened, the gate was gone. Warriors were charging into the courtyard. grandfathers men ran to fight them. There was much killing. Grandfather came out to fight too; he killed many enemies with his great hammer. Him and his men were winning, but then a giant man entered through the broken gate. He was tall as a mountain and wore a great fur coat, and his eyes burned like fire, and he carried no weapon. Grandfather's men stopped fighting when they saw him. Even Grandfather faltered. He seized grandfather and…." Snorri's voice trailed off, he silently stared at the flames for a few moments, and then continued. "Mother snatched me up then and bore me to the top of the wall. She bade me flee, and lowered me over the wall with a rope. Stearne leapt from the wall into a snowdrift and followed. I looked up. The raiders seized mother and bore her from the wall." With that, Snorri fell to his knees and began to weep. Sigyn went to him and wrapped her cloak about the lad. "So, Ullirsborg has fallen" Said Biggu, stroking his beard. "This is bad." Sigyn wiped tears from her face and composed herself. After a space she replied "Bad indeed. Three of these raiders pursued the boy. I slew them on Devil's Glacier, they were a bad lot, mercenaries no doubt," "What do propose I do about it?" enquired Biggu, "Forge an army of clockwork men and drive off the invaders? Doubtless they will track the boy here and slay us all." "Doubtless you are right ,Biggu," Sigyn responded angrily. Biggu's attitude was becoming tiresome. "I propose we wait here and do nothing, perhaps shaving the backs of our necks so the curs will have an easier time lopping off our heads. Or, alternately, you could allow the boy to shelter here, then go forth and alert the surrounding households of what as happened, maybe assemble a few fighting men. I will go to Ullirsborg and scout the situation; I know a secret way into the keep from the last time I was there. Hyperborean witchmen used some sorcery to tunnel a shaft through the hill the keep butts up against and used it to abduct Snorri's mother ten winters agone, only I, Ullir, Skaddi, and the witchmen themselves knew about it, Now I'll wager only I know of it by Tarim! Ullir said he would keep it open yet hidden, pray to the gods he did so."

"This plan is asinine. " Biggu replied "Even if your tunnel is there and not sealed, and if you escape alive to come here with whatever information you can gather, none of these men hereabouts will take up arms at my call, let alone the retinue required to liberate the keep." "Not for you, but for Ullir. Is he so unloved that none of his vassals would avenge him?" Sigyn strode up to Biggu and stared him down, "What of you? You seem to have lived well and in peace under his protection, would you now see his grandson slain and yourself be ruled by Vanir bandits." Biggu regarded the boy for a space, and then glanced up at the great sabre-toothed cat skull that hung from the rafters. He sighed deeply "Very well! I will go. Let us put the lad in the house securely before we leave," "Good man, Biggu!" Sigyn clapped him hard on the shoulder, "Good man! Now, do you have a helmet laying about I might borrow?

NEXT: SIGYN ENTERS THE KEEP!


	2. Chapter 2

II

After securing Snorri in Biggu's house, and seeing the strapping blacksmith off on his mission to raise some semblance of a liberating fighting force from the local populace, Sigyn had set off to the foothills surrounding the keep, intent on reaching the tunnel entrance by nightfall, in order to have cover of darkness when entering the keep. The hound Stearne had been agitated, whimpering and running from the bed where Snorri slumbered and to the front door, torn between following Sigyn and staying to protect his young master.

It was near dark when she reached her goal. The entrance to the tunnel was impossibly smooth and circular, bored into the hillside by the black magic of the Hyperborean witchmen. Leaning her spear against the hill face, Sigyn doffed her cloak, folded it carefully, and laid it on the ground. Atop this she placed an object wrapped in oiled parchment. She unfolded the parchment to reveal a box-like bronze affair with a round lens on one face. Taking up flint and steel, Sigyn kindled a small flame with tinder and ignited the wick inside the contraption. She adjusted the lens on the box and it projected a tight beam of light, Sigyn aimed this into the tunnel, revealing naught but detritus blown in by the wind, and walls covered by slime and mold. Sigyn sniffed the air about the tunnel and grimaced with disgust. "Filled with bears, no doubt." she muttered, shifting upon her head the somewhat ridiculous helm Biggu had provided. (It was a broad, bowl like affair made up of overlapping plates, "Based on an ancient Asgardian design." Biggu had assured her. It put Sigyn in mind of a curled up sow bug.)

She then slung her shield across her back, and taking up her spear in her right hand and the Khitan lantern in her left, she set off down the tunnel.

Here a description of Ullirsborg becomes necessary. It consists of three cyclopean basalt walls built about the face of a large hill, these existed before Ullir laid claim to the structure, and had stood as long as any memory of human habitation of the area. It was rumored the Ullir had entered the keep in his youth and found it infested with all manner of hellish monstrosities. These he vanquished and built his great hall within the walls. It was two-storied, the lower story a great feasting chamber where Ullir held court, the upper made up of rooms in which Ullir, his family and trusted retainers dwelt, the other staff and soldiery dwelt in four bunkhouses within the walls of the keep, the roof of the hall was a railed platform where guards patrolled. A tall, crow's nest affair reared up from the top of the hall where guards could look out over the walls of the keep in the threes directions not obscured by the hill.

Ullir proclaimed it his stronghold and used it as a base from which to pacify the area. Which under his authority became an island of relative peace and civility in an otherwise barbaric region.

The tunnel followed a straight path through the hillside, terminating out of the cliff face within the outer walls of the keep, concealed behind a tool shed. Here Sigyn emerged, having traversed the tunnel without incident. She peered past stacks of crates and barrels, seeing only the timbers that made up the wall of the tool shed and unmarked virgin snow. Shutting off the lens on the lantern and sitting it aside, she removed crates and barrels, placing them inside the tunnel. She strove to be silent, but inevitably there would be a creak, pop or bang and Sigyn would wince, expecting a horde of assailants to appear. Once she had cleared an opening, Sigyn stepped out and moved up against the shed and moved along its wall until she could see around it. "Ymir." she whispered. Beyond the tool shed she could see the smokehouse and just beyond that, Ullir's great hall. The intervening snow was trampled and stained pink with spilled blood, here and there would be piles of bloody entrails. Atop a woodpile near the smokehouse, Sigyn thought she saw a chunk of blonde scalp, complete with a piece of skull, clotted with brains.

Sigyn raised her spear and shield and cautiously made for the great hall, from whence she saw light bleeding from the shuttered windows. All about her was the evidence of horrific carnage. She had the seen the aftermath of battle countless times, and had known combat since she'd been old enough to close her fingers about the haft of an axe. Her village was remote, and barbaric, even by the standards of the Aesir. Every occupant was by necessity a savage warrior, regardless of age or sex. But what she saw now was not the normal carnage that was left behind after a raid the like of which Snorri had described. No Whole bodies were in sight. Here an there might be a finger, an eyeball, or some unidentifiable bit of viscera, but it seemed all the corpses had been removed, quite the feat in such a short amount of time. Traditionally the victors would have been enjoying the spoils of their victory rather than sorting out the corpses of the fallen. But even so, there had been more done here than removing the bodies. Here entrails had been draped over a railing, there teeth had been arranged in a neat circle on a barrelhead, and in the center of that circle was placed a disembodied nipple. Blood had been smeared on the walls of the hall and smokehouse in crudely obscene designs. _Someone had been playing._

Suppressing a shudder, Sigyn slipped up close to one of the shuttered windows of the great hall and peered through one of the slits. Only part of the chamber was visible, revealed flickeringly by a few torches along the walls and some candles still burning on the long tables. Strewn about these tables Sigyn could discern a pile of raw flesh, a neat stack of long limb bones, and the tawny head of an Aesir man, severed just under the nose, its dead eyes seemed to peer at Sigyn quizzically. Sigyn forced herself to ignore this new horror and looked beyond it; she could see nor hear any evidence of living occupancy. Stealing around to one end of the long, rectangular building, she found the great double doors the slightly ajar. She crept up to this opening and eased the doors apart enough for her to enter. A fuller horror was then revealed. The bodies that had been so curiously missing from the field of battle were here in the hall, many stripped and stacked neatly along the walls; others placed on the long feasting tables and grotesquely mutilated. Sigyn saw that all likely all the inhabitants of Ullirsborg where here and, puzzlingly, a great number of what could only be the invaders; red bearded Vanir, gaunt Hyperboreans, a swarthy Pict or two. Had Ullir's men made such a good accounting of themselves to have slain so many? Who had remained to arrange the bodies so? And why?

These questions were driven from Sigyn's mind as she spied a pale figure laying near the center of the largest of the long tables that reserved for Ullir and those closest to him. Sigyn moved quickly to it sidestepping the pools of bloody filth which now covered the planks of the hall. A cloak of profound horror and grief settled about Sigyn as she recognized the body that lay before her. It was Skaddi, daughter of Ullir, mother to Snorri. She was naked and appeared to be carefully cleaned, her limbs and hair carefully arranged. Her eyes had been left open and gazed sightlessly at the ceiling. Sigyn noted a smell of spices and butter strongly about Skaddi's body and something unnatural about the shape of her belly. These observations triggered a memory in Sigyn of a time when she had seen priests in Stygia preparing the body of a nobleman for mummification. Sigyn fought the urge to retch as it all became clear: Skaddi had been disemboweled and stuffed like a goose.

A voice resounded across the hall, near the opposite entrance. "I see you have found the centerpiece of tonight's feast!" Sigyn snapped around to face the source of the sound raising spear and shield in a stance drilled into her by Kothian war-masters. The speaker was a compact, yet formidable looking man, dark haired with a short beard. His clothing was of high quality a red woolen cloak over a silk tunic and leather trousers. Tall polished boots adorned his feet. But this finery was marred by spattered blood and other stains his hair was disheveled and his wildly glaring eyes and frothing lips bespoke of lunacy. Behind him stood another figure, much taller, covered from head to toe in what appeared to be a bloodied linen bed sheet with two eyeholes cut in it. Sigyn glared for a moment, tears streaming down her face as grief and horror were supplanted by red rage, when she found her voice, it quivered with venomous bile. "Dog! Was it you who did this? I'll split you from crotch to gullet!" The man seemed incredulous. "I did no deeds! I Harrald of Agis, have renounced the path of violence and warfare! My sole propose in life is to serve the needs of my beloved brother here." he indicated the hulking shape behind him. "I merely arranged for him to be here, were these worthies you see all about us offered themselves up in tribute." "Lies!"

Sigyn spat, "You and your men raided this keep!" "Not so!" Harrald protested, "Some of my former cohorts arrived with me, yes, and they may have assumed it was my will to at take the keep, as it would have been in days past. They acted on their own accord, and after a short battle, they too chose to….HEEEEEE!" Harrald's narrative cut short as he began giggling uncontrollably, drool dribbling from his lips. The sound was far from humorous. After a few moments he composed himself enough to continue. "No matter! I had thought you another of Ullir's fighting men when I first clapped eyes on you, but I see now you are the very flower of Asgardian womanhood! Ymir! These climes produce women of an exceedingly robust type! It is fortuitous that you have arrived now when our larder is full to bursting, and my brother can turn his thoughts to matters other than filling his belly." "You and your brother had better turn your thoughts to filling your hands with steel!" Sigyn snarled. "Unless you'd be slain unarmed, I care not." Harrald held up his palms imploringly his face a grinning mask of lunacy. "Hold! Do not do anything rash until we've heard from my brother!" With that Harrald, in a flurry of dexterous movement worthy of a Vendyhan temple dancer, leapt to one side and whisked the bloody shroud from the giant behind him.

The figure thus revealed was so maddening Sigyn could only stare at it dumbly like a pole axed ox. It was a man, and an ape, and neither. Sparse wisps of long coarse black hair sprouted all over its heavily muscled body, but nowhere thick enough to conceal any of its gelid, corpse grey flesh. From beneath a sloping, ridged brow two tiny yellow eyes peered out malevolently above the rude slit of a nose. A thick purple tongue lolled stupidly from one corner of a wide grinning mouth filled with long, yellow teeth. Hideously bloated manhood swung pendulously between its sinewy, bandy legs. Jagged black toenails scraped the timbers beneath it slab like feet. It held up its great hands before it, knuckles cracking as it curled and uncurled the thickly gnarled fingers. All over the beast there were clots of dried blood and brains. It reeked of the charnel house.

Sigyn instinctively moved to attack the thing but found to her bewilderment that she had dropped her spear and shield to the floor. She doffed her helm and let it fall too, as to better see the nightmare visage before her. She found it impossible to do aught but stare into the tiny yellow piggish eyes of Harrald's "Brother", for in them she beheld wonders: _A golden city by a crystal lake. Armories filled with arms and armor, dusty from disuse. Fat, contented farmers working their fields and gardens. Children lounging in the sun on luxuriant lawns. Plump serving maids and boys scurrying about with laden platters and flasks of golden wine. A warm sweet scented breeze blowing through a magnificent palace, in it a golden throne, for Sigyn, Queen of All There Is, thronged by servants, courtiers, and hangers on, adored by all. And suckling at her breast, her child and heir, staring lovingly up at her with yellow, piggy eyes…_

There was a blinding flash and a blast of cold. Sigyn found herself flat on her back on the floor of Ullir's hall. Her ears assailed by a hideous, wailing cry accompanied by a ferocious animal growl. She scrambled to her feet, staggering and gasping as a wave of pain fell upon her, her scale mail had been ripped from her body, bruising and lacerating her, and the wool tunic she wore beneath it hung in tatters about her waist. Her back felt as if it had been scourged, and bloody scratches crisscrossed her arms and shoulders. Finding her sword no longer at her side, Sigyn scrambled for a weapon, seizing a bloody cleaver from the nearby table. Whirling about to find a skull in which to sink the cleaver, she found the foul man-ape flailing and struggling with a small hound. I was Stearne. The dog had apparently left his master's side and tracked Sigyn back to the keep, there finding her in the grip of a foul abomination, had with his jaws seized the anthropomorphic nightmare by its dangling testicles.

With a wail the thing managed to wrench Stearne from him and hurled the hound across the hall. The dog struck with a yelp and sickening thud, then lay still on the floor. Sigyn wasted no time, closing the distance with the man-ape she brought the cleaver down with all the force she could muster. The beast turned and raised its left arm in defense. The cleaver sheared through flesh and bone and there was a spray of foul black ichor. Screaming, Harrald's Brother recoiled with his arm dangling by a strip of flesh. Sigyn pressed her attack, closing within striking distance again. This time the monster seized her with its good arm. So long it was that it nearly encircled her, trapping her left arm and torso. It pulled her close and squeezed. She could feel her bones about to give way before the things unearthly strength. But it had but on arm, and Sigyn's strong right arm was free. Again and again she lashed out with the cleaver, hacking away at the man-apes head and neck. Blinded by pain and the foul black blood of the creature. She flailed away blindly until, gradually, the monsters grip on her weakened. Only when she felt the floor underneath her feet once more and no longer felt her blade cleaving flesh and bone did she pause to wipe the black ichor from her eyes and survey her surroundings.

Harrald's Brother lay in a heap on the floor, his head and neck a black ruin that made the center of a widening pool of foulness. Stearne lay unmoving were he fell. Harrald was nowhere to be seen. Both doors to the hall were flung wide, and a frigid wind blew through it. Shivering, Sigyn struggled to arrange the tatters of her tunic about her in such a way as to shut out the cold. It was then she heard the tramp of feet, and muffled shouting from the roof above. A hurried search revealed her shield and spear, lying where she had dropped them as the man-ape ensorcelled her with his weird, enchanting gaze. Taking up these items again Sigyn searched for the way up to the roof.


	3. Chapter 3

As Sigyn searched for a way up to the roof, she could hear the commotion above growing more frenzied, there was unintelligible shouting, and a louder stamping of feet. There was a great thud, followed by more frenzied thumping, then silence. Following the direction of the noises guided her to a spiraling staircase that led up to the second floor, into an attic, then beyond, terminating in a heavy trap door in the ceiling. Sigyn braced her shoulder against this and pushed, crying out in pain as the contact of the rough oak against her bare, raw flesh reminded her of her injuries. Mustering up a reserve of iron will she redoubled her efforts and forced the door up and open. She peered over the edge of the opening. The clouds had given way and the gibbous moon illuminated the flat roof of the hall. All was dusted with light snow. A few feet from the trapdoor, near the base of the guard tower that reared up from the roof, lay Harrald in a ragged heap. Sigyn approached the body, spear at the ready. Harrald was, in fact. Dead. Pierced by a score of wounds, most near his heart. In right fist was clutched a bloodstained dagger, and his face was frozen in a maniacal grin.

"Who has slain him?' she thought. Casting her gaze about the area, Sigyn found a trail of bloody footprints, leading from Harrald and proceeding up the plank steps that allowed egress to the guard tower. Stooping, she ripped the red woolen cloak from Harrald's cooling carcass and threw it about her naked torso, then spat betwixt his glazed, mad eyes. "Cur." she muttered, then followed the blood trail up into the guard tower. Slumped on a stool in one corner of the shack was Donal, the Cimmerian she had seen plunge into a crevasse that morning. "You?" he muttered, then grinned broadly. Blood gleamed blackly in the moonlight upon his lips and drooping mustachios, and about his hand where he gripped his side. "I thought you'd be that damned ape-man, come to finish me off. So you bested it, eh? Crom's teeth, woman! you must be cast in iron! he had you fixed in that gaze of his, I thought you doomed." "Doomed I was, but the hound distracted him by gnawing on his manhood. I found the hairy bastard had tried to take liberties with me so I brained him with a cleaver. Enough of that, pick up a weapon and let's have done with this." "Don't exert yourself further on my account." Donal replied. "I shant tarry long. The mad bastard fairly cleaved my liver. Be still, and let me explain myself ere death claims me." Sigyn backed herself up against the low wall opposite Donal and slid down it until she was squatting on the floor, she drew Harrald's cloak tighter around her. "Fair enough, but don't be long winded. It's too cold and I get impatient with men who take their time dying." Donal made a gurgling chuckle. "Take heed then."

"Harrald was not always the lunatic you saw this night. He was a fierce and ruthless warlord, but fair and never needlessly cruel. Those of us who rode with him held him in great esteem and our loyalty was unshakeable. Thus it was until Harrald heard a rumor of an unguarded treasure horde in a Hyperborean burial mound. With much effort we located the thing; a circle of phallic monoliths hidden among the craggy peaks near the top of the world. Damnably cold it was…" Donal was seized with a fit of coughing, spat blood, then continued, "I had advised him against this folly, saying it would be ill worth the effort, but Harrald would not be dissuaded. We found a tomb under the hill, alright, all it contained was that ape man. He was inside some sort of…bag…wet and slimy like a sheep's stomach. Harrald cut him out and the thing rose immediately and fixed us all with his yeollow eyes. We all found ourselves curiously helpless, much as you did. It put thoughts in our head. It showed us how great our lives would become should we agree to aid it. Needless to say, Harrald and the rest of us cooperated fully with the damned monster. Harrald was the most enthusiastic, naming the thing his 'brother'. With the ape man leading us, no foe was too great. He merely needed to gaze upon whole groups of fighting men and their will would be sapped. They would drop their weapons and wait patiently to be slaughtered. We soon learned how literal that term would become, Harrald's new brother would dine solely on fresh human meat. We all ignored this horror and filled our pockets with gold without risking our hides. We even ignored the rapid change in Harrald, he grew madder each day. It was not long before he began joining his brother in his morbid feasts. Still we…I... did nothing. Whether it was out of loyalty to the man Harrald was or fear of what he became I know not…but…" Donal grew silent. Sigyn thought he'd expired and was about to rise, when suddenly he continued" ….eventually I climbed out of that crevasse you pitched me in, no easy task. I raced back to Ullirsborg. I figured you'd raise up a band of Aesir and launch a counter attack. I wanted to warn Harrald. Who would guess you'd sneak into the keep alone! Crom! You've bigger balls than most men I've known! If I were a young man with a life ahead of me, I'd…." "Enough!" Sigyn interrupted, curtly. "I don't lay with murderous brigands, young, old, dying or otherwise. Finish your damned story, Cimmerian!" "Quite so!" Donal agreed. "So I arrived back here to find Harrald giggling like a fool as his accursed brother shucked you like an oyster, preparing to devour you... or worse. All around was piled their feast. His own men among them. HIS OWN MEN! Ever loyal to him, yet he gave them over to that demon and likely gnawed their flesh himself. MY SWORD BROTHERS! I drew my knife and went for him! Mad as he was, he was still a skilled fighter! He met me with his dagger and we fought like wild beasts throughout the hall, up the stairs, finally on the roof. That was where he dealt me this wound. But by Crom, it was not such a wound to kill me quickly! With his dagger tangled in my guts I pressed my attack…I plunged my knife into him again and again….till he lay still...my knife…a fine blade….had it from Hyrkania, I did…..a fine blade….fine…."

Sigyn waited in silence for some time. Then, sure the old bandit had breathed his last, she rose slowly and looked out from the guard tower. A ragged row of lighted torches could be seen coming up the road that led to Ullirsborg, Sigyn snorted and spat in disgust. "Biggu, you ass! If there were any brigands alive in here they'd feather you with arrows! Attacking by torchlight? And to think civilized folk fear the Aesir!" She met Biggu and the ragtag force of farmhands he'd assembled, and after robustly chastising them for their ignorance of siege warfare, told them briefly what had transpired. When she finished, she instructed Biggu; "Have those louts build a pyre and burn all these bodies, save for Skaddi, and the hound Stearne, those two will receive a proper funeral, aye, and Ullir as well if we can find him in that hellhole. Heed me, Biggu! Snorri must never know the details of his mother's death. Tell him only she died heroically in his defense." "So be it." Biggu intoned, "But you are hurt! We must see to your wounds!" Sigyn winced and squirmed benath her cloak, as if Biggu had reminded her that she was in pain. "Aye, I've a scratch or two on my back that needs stitching I'll wager! Let us return to you house,Biggu. After we tell Snorri the sad fate of his family you can see to my wounds." Then Sigyn grinned wickedly. "You know, Biggu, after this night of horrors, if you pour enough wine down my gullet, I'll likely let you see to more than my wounds, by Ymir!"


	4. Chapter 4

Biggu and Snorri slowly made their way back to the long house from the woodpile, each laden with a copious number of logs. Treading carefully in the melting snow, trying to step on the luxuriant green patches that had begun to appear now that spring was bearing down. They had labored in the forge all morning, Snorri eagerly learning the blacksmith's trade. It had been decided by the hastily assembled council of elders, and at the urging of Sigyn, that Biggu be made steward of Ullirsborg until Snorri came of age and could assume the duties of a lord. Biggu agreed, but on the condition that he could raise Snorri at his homestead, and teach the lad practical affairs of plain living, in addition to the more lordly duties. Snorri was greatly pleased by this; he had taken to the hulking blacksmith enthusiastically. Ullirsborg no doubt held unpleasant memories for the lad. Biggu had arranged for a small garrison to take posts there and restore it to order.

As the twain approached the door, Sigyn's raised voice issued from within. "Biggu! The fire is dying! And there is no water in the in the kettle!" The logs in Biggu's grasp shifted as he struggled through the door, pinching his finger. "Damn!" he shouted. Snorri stifled a laugh. Sigyn was still abed, obscured by furs and blankets. Beside her lay the yellow puppy Snorri had dubbed Stearnson. "You could at least have opened the door for us woman!" Biggu snarled, and then thrust his injured finger in his mouth. "I dare not!" replied Sigyn earnestly, "To exert myself so soon after suffering greatly at the hands of the man-ape would be folly!" "It's been at least a fortnight! " Exclaimed Biggu, "Your wounds have healed quite nicely and you felt well enough to drink two bottles of my best wine only last night!" Sigyn shook her head and curled up tighter in the blankets." That was medicinal. I fear that stew you fed us last night struck a savage blow to my delicate constitution."

In truth, Sigyn had fallen ill the day after her battle in the hall, stricken with fever and delirium. For three days Biggu feared she would expire, but she was made of stern stuff and quickly recovered once the fever broke. Since then, she had lounged about, doing naught but napping, reclining in a chair by the fire regaling them with tales of her adventures (several times recounting her fight with the Man-Ape. Snorri and Biggu had both wearied of her descriptions of the creatures pendulous genitals.) She also bathed often, (which required Snorri and Biggu to provide her with great amounts of hot water.) and enjoyed Biggu's ample supplies of food and drink. Biggu was greatly vexed, but only mildly protested as Sigyn had often shared his bed in the fortnight since her fever abated. Snorri still idolized the Aesir she-warrior as both his rescuer and avenger of his family, and sought ever to gain her favor. "I will fetch you water Sigyn! Shall I heat it and fill the tub for your bath?" "Aye lad do that. But first take Stearnson outside and frolic with him awhile, he is restless and I must speak with Biggu a bit."

When Snorri had left, Sigyn sat up and indicated that Biggu should come set beside her. Biggu shook his head. "By the Frost Giants, woman! It's not even noon, and the boy is right outside!" "Not that, you oaf! I need you to listen, sit!" Biggu had been expecting this conversation when the snows began melting, he did not relish it. He had come to enjoy Sigyn's company far more than he'd admit. She began as he'd feared; "I'll be going soon, Biggu. I will make a quick trip back to my village and bring some men I trust to help you restore Ullirsborg, and train a proper garrison. Once I'm sure you and Snorri are handling everything, I am for Brythunia." Biggu nodded. "As you wish. I would have you stay here. I…. The boy needs you. Why continue your infernal wandering?" Sigyn was still for a moment, her gaze distant. At length she shrugged. "It has always been thus with me. I grow restless, curious about what's over the next hill, what's beyond that great jungle, across that sea... You know, there's a legend among the Barachans of vast cities of gold pyramids beyond the Western Ocean. I would like to see that ere I die." "Tis' folly!" Grunted Biggu. "There is naught across the ocean that cannot be had in Asgard." Sigyn regarded him for a space. "Your mother was not of Asgard; did she not tell you tales of other places? That ridiculous helm you built was a Stygian type, or I'm a Kushite! Come with me, Biggu, if only as far as Brythunia! See something of the world before Ymir claims you." Biggu shook his shaggy head. "Nay, I have a responsibility to the lad, and to Ullirsborg, and I am too old for such gallivanting, as are you wench" Sigyn's brow furrowed. She did not like to dwell on her age overmuch, "I'm no old crone yet, by Ishtar!" she laughed, abruptly rising and throwing aside the furs and blankets. She stood before Biggu unclothed, hands on her hips, as if to reinforce her statement about "cronliness". Biggu grinned and nodded approvingly at the sight of her strong limbs, the curve of her hips and swell of her bosom. Her tawny hair, now unbraided, cascaded down her shoulders. The scars that crisscrossed her body only served to make her more desirable. She gazed down upon him with the authority of one of Ymir's own shield maidens. "Damnation woman! If anyone could make me drag off to Brythunia, it's you! I suppose I'll consider it!" "Do that Biggu, do that. Now hurry, you have other chores to perform ere Snorri gets my bath ready!"

 **End**


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